Shades of Grey
by Wolfepup
Summary: Growing up is hard to do, but what if the one growing up is a Jedi with a master that gets in more trouble than a cat in a room of mice?


All the usual disclaimers, blah blah. But, all of the characters besides Yoda are from the dusty corners of my own mind, please don't use them; I have…other plans in store for them in upcoming stories. ;)

Historian's Note: This story takes place roughly 100 years before Phantom Menace

Rating: PG

* * *

-13

In the absence of certainty, instinct is all you can follow.

-Jonathan Catner

Shades of Gray

The Force danced away from her touch like feathers caught in an errant breeze. Emotions glinted at the edges of her perceptions, mere hints of the fire burning inside of her body. Her legs ached, but not from sitting on the hard bench. The dull, distant throb of her body distracted her, pulling her mind from chasing the feathers of Force.

A few days ago, she had become unsettled, the Force pulling away from the imbalance in her body as it reset itself. Her emotions became harder to control, erratic and potent. Sweat beaded on her brow as she fought with her body for control. The Force seemed to laugh at her, resisting her need to control herself, to control the changes within her own body.

Karra snarled. Her mediations were not going well. Tari looked at her calmly; gray eyes half-lidded with his own meditations. Karra's body had started to mature.

Her half-pirate blood was asserting itself over the slower maturation of her Human side. Every day, hormones raged ever closer to their inevitable resolution. His Padawan was growing up.

The young Padawan Jedi was terrified that she would lose control. But the shining strength of her Master calmed her, centered her thoughts. She had to relax; her body would find its own balance, its own center. The first time is always the worst, another female Jedi had said.

A lightly furred brow creased in concentration. Female Jedi were rare, especially Humans with their monthly cycle. The subtle imbalance that ruled her from month to month was stronger, unsure of its rhythms. He sighed. The next year would not be easy.

Tari unfolded his legs, draping them over the bench he was seated on. Karra's body would sort itself out, in time. But the subtle distortions that she was fighting with would cause him trouble. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Karra, don't fight it."

She gritted her teeth, a thin sheen of sweat tinting her brow. He continued, "It's natural, help it on its course and find a balance." The sooner, the better.

The muscles in Karra's shoulders relaxed. "It is not easy," she breathed. Vivid green eyes stared at her Master.

He smiled, shaking his head. "I remember my adolescence all too well." His eyes gazed back into the years. "Imagine a scrawny, shy Padawan, trying to do all in his power to stop a giant, angry Wookie from snapping his neck, and his voice cracks."

Karra laughed deeply. "Well, you're alive. I guess he dropped you!"

Tari shrugged, "And he hasn't stopped laughing yet, I'd imagine."

Karra quickly covered the smile that brightened her face with a slender hand as the dour ambassador from Tr'vos swept up to them. He was a tall, thin being, towering over Tari's head, but weighing much less than the slender Jedi. Deep blue robes shot through with silver swathed the thin frame and billowed behind him. Matching silver jewelry lined long fingers and circled his brow.

Tari looked calmly up at the ambassador. In the few weeks he had been dealing with the slender Tr'vonian, Tari had become used to his superior attitude. "I have need of your…council," the ambassador said directly to the older Jedi, ignoring Karra completely.

He could sense Karra's irritation, but to her credit, she held it in check behind narrowed green eyes. Tari nodded, standing and arranging his robes as he saw fit. The Tr'vonian scowled, irritated at the display. Tari looked at him sideways, tugging on his robe one last time. He was not about to let the ambassador drag him from one end of the compound to the other. Tari looked sharply at the ambassador.

"I was teaching my Padawan. How important is my…council?" The taller being seemed to shrink back on itself. It had been obvious from the first moment that Tr'vonians had never dealt with Jedi, especially a Knight and his Padawan. At first, they had assumed, without asking, that Karra and Tari were of equal rank and thus equally subject to being drug about the compound for useless and time-consuming meetings. Before Tari had even placed a foot on the soil of this world, they were being ordered and pushed into the barely regulated chaos of Tr'vonian ways. The older Jedi stood his ground and demanded in his soft voice that the voyage to their world was long, and that they needed to rest. The Tr'vonians stated only one was needed to settle in, that the other could attend a meeting _right now_.

Tari had narrowed his eyes and stated quietly that Karra was his Padawan, his student. And that they would not be separated unless it was needed.

The ambassador stepped back under the shorter man's gaze. "I am afraid that it is very important, Jedi Knight Tari." In an unexpected display of respect, the ambassador bowed deeply to Karra. "My condolences for the delay in your studies, Jedi Padawan Karra."

She nodded, surprise clearly evident in her features. Tari nodded once, "Then we must waste no time."

The Tr'vonian nodded his one agreement with a sharp twitch of his head and glided out of the room, Tari half a pace behind.

The council hall was a large half-bowl shaped arena, with tiers of seating arching far overhead. The ambassador led Tari through one of the ground floor entrances that were usually reserved for the higher-ranking members. Ambassadors from other cultures normally used the upper entrances. Whatever the Tr'vonians wanted to tell him, it was very important.

Tari stood patiently behind his escort, hands folded into the sleeves of his dark robe. At his presence, the soft murmurs of the large chamber tapered off into silence. A very old Tr'vonian, his silky hair pure white and his back bent with age, shuffled up to the speaking platform on a raised dais at the head of the small clearing at the base of the tiers of seats. He arranged himself for a few seconds and the usually impatient Tr'vonians settled into their seats and waited.

The older Tr'vonian turned milky blue eyes on Tari. "Jedi Knight Tari, three of your weeks ago, you were bade by the council to come to this world." His soft voice echoed throughout the chamber. He was stating a fact well known among his people. Most council sessions raged into chaos if a speaker said what was already known. But the gathered Tr'vonians, most in their finest robes, kept silent.

"Our laws, while good laws, have not kept the tricalla farmers away. Every week we find more and more tricalla seedlings growing on our worlds." To question the laws of this world would have gotten any other Tr'vonian thrown out of the chamber with explicit instructions never to return. But the chamber kept quiet, every eye on the ancient speaker and the Jedi.

"We have tried to find those who run the slave trade, but they hide from us. It is time to send in the Jedi." Murmurs trickled in the chamber, but silenced at the elder's pointed glare. "Tomorrow night, you and your Padawan will leave this world for the outer moon of the fourth planet." He stepped slowly down from the pedestal, a whisper of light fabric. Nobody stepped forward to take his place at the podium.

With a voice only Tari could hear, he continued. "A cargo ship is leaving for that world in one hour. I have a servant packing your gear and adding a bag full of what might be useful. We need to stop this farming once and for all." The Jedi nodded gravely.

The ancient being gracefully mounted the podium, his head raised high. He motioned to Tari with an outstretched skeletal hand, "May the winds of good fortune line the way for you and your student, Jedi Knight Tari. I will have a transport ready for you tomorrow night." The ancient speaker turned slowly and eased to the back entrance of the chamber, the door held open by a dark-clad security guard.

Tari bowed to his retreating back, and stepped out of the chamber, the noise of that morning's council session roaring into in full swing. A servant met him at the door. "I have a message."

Tari paused, inclining his head to show he was ready. "The Merchant Ghadand would like to discuss trade possibilities with a representative of the Senate. His transport leaves in less than an hour. He has expressed his need for urgency."

The Jedi nodded, motioned for the servant to proceed in front of him. "Lead the way. I am unfamiliar with the compound, your assistance will be most grateful." With a quick nod, the servant trotted down the hall, Tari's long legs stretching to keep up.

Karra met him at the merchant's quarters, dressed like a servant girl, her odd face covered with a deep hood. "I know already," she mouthed, holding the door open. Tari stepped inside and stared at himself.

A short Tr'vonian adjusted Tari's Jedi robes. "Is it close? Do I look like you?" Tari nodded absently, pacing around the being. "Good," it continued. "On the bed you will find gear to make yourself look like me. My servant and I were due to transport to the moon on a trading mission that was canceled when you arrived." He looked sharply at the Jedi. "Tricalla fruit takes much from my profits, Jedi. I want the trade stopped, and when I heard of the new farm, it is no secret that I wanted to inspect it for myself." He pulled the hood of the robe over his face. "How is it that you Jedi meditate?"

"Karra will explain." The short Tr'vonian nodded, examining himself in a mirror. Tari stepped into the bedroom, and laid out on the bed was a full compliment of merchant clothes, and a pair of short stilts. In a few minutes, he had pulled on the stilts and changed from his robes into the deep green flowing robes of the merchant. Small slits presented themselves at convenient levels, perfect for concealing any number of weapons, including a lightsaber. The loose, heavily layered fabric concealed even the basic shape of his lanky body.

The short Tr'vonian nodded his approval as Tari stepped from the bedroom. A fake lightsaber hung from Merchant Ghadand's hip. "Not bad." He reached for a box. Inside was carefully arrayed a number of different makeups and assorted facial pieces.

Tari did not ask why a merchant would be so skilled in concealing his face. He sat obediently in a chair while the Tr'vonian worked his magic.

With the distracted speech of a true artist, he talked while he applied the makeup with practiced taps of a small sponge. "I am short for my people, so I have those stilts you are now wearing. Don't worry, they were old, you can have them. Once you get on the moon, ask for Nahalla, she is expecting me."

"You do this often," Tari stated.

"Don't speak." He smoothed out a wrinkle on Tari's brow. "And do not touch your face." He stepped back, grunted, and leaned back in to dab at the Jedi's makeup. "I have business affairs that I would rather keep secret. The Council has agreed to ignore certain transgressions for my services in this matter." He examined Tari again, then held up a mirror.

Pale blue skin, tinted the lightest shade of purple was framed by a wig of light green hair shot through with silver. "Don't worry," the merchant continued. "My real hair is close to your color, but something that dark," he wrinkled his face. "I do not know how you can live with such a boring hair color."

Karra hid her smile behind her hand. The merchant held out some contacts for Tari. "I had these made for you. Be quick, your transport is waiting."

Bright purple eyes stared back at Tari from the mirror. The contacts felt rather odd, but it was nothing he couldn't get used to. As of on cue, porters sauntered into the room and carried away huge piles of what could only be their baggage.

Karra filled her role well, staring down at them with a softly curled lip and a glint of humor hidden under a thin veil of disgust in her eyes. She turned to Tari; "I am Servant Rantha, here to assist you in your journey, Merchant Ghadand." 

Tari nodded briskly, and Karra could sense the arrogance he had assumed. With a subtle wave of his hand, a porter cowered on the floor, a small bag in his hands. "Hurry up. I am late for my transport." In a swirl of jade fabric, Tari swept from the room with every ounce of arrogance he had been shown.

The porters obliged him, racing down the corridors, baggage mounded high on small antigrav sleds. Karra had a sled of her own, with slightly less baggage. The corridors cleared in front of them, the occupants of the compound long used to large baggage trains barreling down the wide halls. Tari stared straight ahead, as if the rest of the beings in the hall were of no concern to him, and thus were not worthy of his gaze.

Wider corridors graced the complex as they neared the attached hanger. From outside, it was an impressive domed structure set high in the hill that the complex perched upon. One side had a long, low mouth that eagerly ate up the approaching vessels. From inside, it was well lit, several graceful and elegant royal transport ships resting at their assigned locations. Everything was impeccably clean.

A smaller transport, though still a large vessel, dominated the center of the hanger bay. It was sleek, with deep, upswept wings that faded to glossy black at the tips from the silver body. A lightly tinted black tail bulged a bit, the only outward sign of this ship's double life as a cargo vessel.

The cargo hold of the transport ship had a door that opened at the bottom and had swung down to form a ramp. The porters ran the baggage into the hold, while Tari and Karra gracefully boarded on another, smaller ramp forward of the cargo hold. The corridors inside were as spacious as the ones in the compound, and the efficient porters had parked the small antigrav sleds in special receptacles in their quarters.

Opulent red carpets covered the floor; deep moldings obscured the more functional aspects of the interior of their quarters. Delicate golden curtains whisked shut to hide the anti-grav sleds in their ports. Two deeply carved doors set in golden arches marked the way to their rooms. The ceiling was painted like the sky, soft clouds mingling with twilight stars. Delicate up-lights peeked out from their receptacles, lighting a somewhat dark room. Light gold walls reflected the light of a sun that had not yet set on the world outside of the attached hanger.

Karra whistled softly as the door hissed shut. Tari held a hand out to her to prevent her from speaking. He closed his eyes, reaching with the Force, touching the walls of the room. It flowed over conduits and cables, easing around odd bits of machinery. He could sense Karra unpacking for the three day trip, carefully laying out her borrowed clothes, making small disgusted noises when she came to an article that was not folded just so.

"We are not being watched," Tari said softly.

Karra sighed relief. "Good, I was tired of acting disgusted at all this beautiful clothing." She held up and pulled it to her chest. Tari looked her up and down.

"I like it, sets off your eyes." The deep green gown was trimmed in the darkest of gold. She held up a set of matching jewels, each imbedded with a deep red crystal. "I was thinking of wearing this to dinner tonight. I was told that, while you need to stay here and work on you paperwork," she winked, "I get to roam the ship and set an example to your wealth."

Tari examined the layout of gowns on the bed. "Try the silver one, the one with the blue and green stones."

Karra's face lit us as she held the new gown up to her face. She swirled a few times in the mirror. "I know Jedi aren't supposed to take material goods as payment." She looked over the gown at her Master. "That I always understood."

Tari laughed, "But it is nice to play dress-up for a while, isn't it?"

Karra swept into the opulent dining hall, her silver dress spilling like water onto the floor. A thick belt studded with perfect blue and green gems encircled her slim waist. She let it be known she was not the same species as her current employer; to hire a servant from off the planet was even more expensive than hiring out of the servant pool that hovered around the compound. Most did all they could to make themselves look exotic. Karra didn't even need to try.

Deep green gems the color of her eyes hung from her lightly furred ears. Her Padawan braid was hidden, folded and tucked into a tiara that danced with the gems. Even her deep blue hair had been augmented with a long wig that trailed down to her middle back. Her wrists and fingers felt heavy. But the merchant had described what he wanted her to look like to keep his wealthy reputation intact, and Karra was enjoying the attention.

Every being on the ship held the doors for her, bowed to her. She made it clear that she was preoccupied with the dealings of her employer, even to the point of carrying a small, silver and jewel encrusted data pad with her. She used every ounce of her Jedi grace not to step on the gown's hem.

And she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

She sat herself gracefully at the servant's table. It was longer and lower than the tables for the crew and other paying passengers. The dishes she ate off were slightly less glamorous than the others, the flatware plainer. The other servants bickered and complained incessantly about the terrible conditions of this or that. Karra simply rolled her eyes.

A young Tr'vonian servant spoke to her, his voice high and clear. "You must have an employer that pays you very well. Did he even pay you not to complain about the horrible conditions here?" Karra looked down at him, making him think if she was deciding he was worth talking to. "My employer has paid me well, yes."

"I knew it!" The boy exclaimed, ribbing the finely dressed servant next to him. "Something like you must be expensive indeed."

"Very." The servants around the table started to talk about the business of being a servant. And they talked about themselves like they were objects, property to be bought or sold. Karra was revolted, but they had chosen this path of life. None of them had been born into servanthood.

The other servants ignored her, concentrating and who had the worse quarters or the stingiest employer.

As she stood to leave, a soft hand on her arm stopped her. "At the height of the night, come back here in something less noticeable." Startled emerald eyes glanced up at the handsome young man next to her. Perfectly styled hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck with an ornate silver clasp, mirrored by the delicate whorls of silver in the black cloth of his tunic. Deep within his eyes, Karra sensed a hunger, a need that frightened her.

With a flamboyant swirl of silver and black, he left a concerned Karra in his wake as he swaggered down the wide corridor.

One small canine darted out of her mouth to nibble on her bottom lip. A drift of hunger, hunger for power and dominance, wafted from him on the Force. The other servants around the table seemed to notice and they had quieted, awe at his choice written in their features.

"You had better show up," a garishly clad youth next to her said. "He wasn't very nice to the last girl who didn't show."

Another nodded his deep purple hair a stark contrast to his vivid orange robes. "It's a privilege to be chosen by him."

Karra flung her head back, a haughty gesture to hide her uncertainty. There was something about that man that she did not trust that she could not trust. With a careful deep breath, she hid her concern from her eyes. She straightened her silver gown, patting down the folds with her hands.

"It is late," she breathed, as what had just happened with the man had not occurred. With a nod from the other servants, she drifted out of the large dining hall.

Tari looked up at Karra as she entered their quarters. "Something wrong?"

She carefully pulled the heavy jewels from her hands, placing them in their holders, "I was asked to come back to the eating hall wearing something less noticeable." She shrugged. "I don't like the feeling I had when he asked me."

"Who asked you?"

She thought for a moment. "I think his name is Ferrid. He's an older servant, about your age. I think."

Tari mulled the new information over in his head. "I think you should go, but be careful. Make sure you take your lightsaber."

Karra grinned, "That is something you don't need to tell me twice to do!" She pulled aside one fold of her gown and revealed a slit with her lightsaber tucked underneath. Tari nodded his approval.

"I found this at the bottom of your bags." He held up a dark outfit, half dress, half pants. Still elegant in its cut and hematite jewels, but subtle.

The fabric was soft in Karra's hands as she took the offered outfit from her Master. Long sleeves trailed out of her fingers. "This'll do," she sighed.

"You are worried." Tari had doffed the opulent, flowing robes of earlier and was now clothed in a somewhat more exotic version of his Jedi robes. Karra doubted he was enjoying wearing the clothes of another, taller man. But if he was uncomfortable, her Master didn't show it.

Karra flopped onto a chair, the outfit pooled in her lap. "This is so different, Master Tari. The servants all act like they are some kind of property to flaunt the wealth of their employer." She shuddered softly. "I don't think I can live with it much longer."

Tari nodded, motioning to her with a datapad that materialized out of a fold in his borrowed deep blue robes. "I have been researching a bit, Karra. To the Tr'vonians, servants are property." He grew quiet, his voice a soft whisper. "And it is customary for servants to gather after hours and flaunt even more of their employer's wealth."

She looked at the outfit in her hands. It was beautiful, with a flattering cut, but it was plainer than the silver gown. Simpler. "I don't understand."

Tari looked sadly at his apprentice. "Female servants are worth much more than males for one reason, Karra."

Shock and anger filled her face. "What!" She stood, the simple gown falling to the floor. 

Tari held up a hand. "If I had any say on this matter, I would run into the gathering tonight and scatter the servants. But I can't." Calm gray eyes gazed at Karra. "I trust you to do the right thing, Karra. We have one more night after this one."

Karra picked up the gown, holding in tightly clenched fists. Tari continued. "Technically, as your 'employer', I'm not supposed to know about these…activities." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But, I think it would work if you said that I had paid the stud fee on another servant already." Tari examined the data pad. "Yes, it'll work. 'Upon payment of servant stud fee, said agreed servants cannot and will not engage in reproductive activities until stud services are concluded.'" he quoted.

Karra held the half-gown to her chest, admiring the dark play of the fabric over her light skin. Relief was evident in her voice. "I hope we don't have to prove that." She lowered her arms, thanks written in her vivid green eyes. "I am grateful, Master Tari." She hugged him quickly and dashed off to her room to change.

Tari shrugged, settling himself deeper into the chair and consulting his data pad once more.

The corridors were deserted, their lights dimmed. Karra stood in the shadows around the dining room's door. "You're just in time," whispered a familiar voice from the shadows.

"Ferrid," she breathed, sadness deliberately dripping from her words, "My employer just paid a stud fee while I was at dinner." She looked to the floor, as if she was expecting to enjoy herself that night. "I discovered this a few hours ago." Karra fought to hide the relief she felt deep inside.

She could sense his irritation. He growled softly, "I understand." A gentle hand reached out and caressed her jaw tenderly. "I will make sure nothing happens to you when we land." He looked around quickly, pushing a very small data pad in her hands. "Meet me here when we land. I don't expect to see you until then."

Karra stared at his back in shock, then pushed off the doorframe and drifted slowly to her quarters. She acted as though a great tragedy had befell her, but in reality she was worried. Once before a man had looked at her with the eyes that Ferrid had turned on her. Climbing Tree had died saving her life. But he had died knowing that she was a Jedi, and that she would never be his wife.

The predatory feeling from Ferrid burned in her stomach like an unpleasant spice. Unlike Climbing Tree's gentle caring, Ferrid was a hunter, prowling and intent on his quarry. She doubted that he would rest until he got whatever it was that he was after. Karra paused by the door to her quarters, the data pad held close to her chest.

She was his prey.

The disturbance of Karra's fears leaked into Tari's dozing mind. The kind green eyes of Climbing Tree overlapped with the predatory leer of a face that could only belong to Ferrid. He opened one eye sleepily as Karra slipped into the room.

"That was fast." His soft whisper started Karra.

She composed herself quickly, sitting across from Tari in a large chair. The large diamond-shaped hematite jewels sparkled quietly in the dimmed light. "Ferrid was not pleased when I told him about the stud fee." She pulled her knees into her chest and rested her chin on them. "I don't like the way he looks at me."

"I wouldn't think so."

Karra continued, babbling her discomfort to an understanding Master. "He reminds me of Climbing Tree, but meaner. The feeling I get from him is deeper, more twisted. Tari, I don't know what to do."

Tari shifted in the chair, mulling over the question. "Act like a servant for one more night and two more days, at least until we are off this ship."

Karra nodded slowly.

He reached down and pulled into his lap a small box. "I found this in my baggage." Inside were a few small weapons, a tiny substance analyzer, and a fruit. He held up the fruit, the skin an ugly mottled red and green. "This is a tricalla fruit. We must not eat it. The substance analyzer is for us to test our food. From now on, we eat in our quarters."

"What about last night? We didn't test that food."

"I know, but our erstwhile supporter might have lost his own support if you didn't show yourself like you did."

"So I had to take the risk."

Tari nodded solemnly. "But now, we don't have to."

"Good." Karra stood, turning her back on her Master. "Can you help me out of this uncomfortable thing?"

Tari chuckled, pulling down the fastener. Karra's hips had filled out more, and her waist was slimmer. He watched her trounce off to her room. His young Padawan was growing up.

The ship had landed gracefully a few hours ago. Tari and Karra stood at the head of the ramp, Tari with his makeup on and his head bowed slightly, scowling at a datapad that flashed random account numbers across its small screen. Karra held her place slightly behind him and to his left, her immaculate deep green dress clinging to her changing body. She did her best to hold her chin at the stubborn, arrogant angle of all of the other servants, head tilted ever so slightly to one side as if listening to the breathing of her Master.

She could tell that Tari wasn't completely pleased at being swathed in countless layers of light blue and green diaphanous cloth. It trailed past his feet and the stilts, puddling on the floor. With practiced Jedi grace and ease, he drifted down the ramp, consulting the datapad and ignoring the servant who came to greet them. Karra led him with subtle nudges of the Force, and Tari followed the servant flawlessly. She could sense him reaching out with the Force, feeling and sensing for any hints as to the condition of the people. He grunted softly, a small signal that for now, nothing was too far out of the ordinary.

Around her brow was the gold and ruby encrusted torque of her services. She scowled at the thought of the stud fee, but she knew it was false. Karra doubted she would have kept her temper if she were bartered off like so many farm animals.

Tari never faulted in his steps, retiring to his room as was customary for a merchant from a long voyage. Karra was led to a smaller door just down the hall from his. From her briefings, she knew the door led to a chamber connected to Tari's room, but it still did not comfort her.

The sight of her lanky Master laying out her usual Jedi robes on her bed soothed her fears. He had already doffed the cumbersome robes and stilts, but his own robes were still packed away. A dark undersuit hung from his shoulders. It was too small around his waist, too long in the legs and arms, and far to loose in the shoulders. He looked uncomfortably rumpled.

Karra held her hand up to her mouth to hide her smile. Tari rolled his eyes. "I like the fit of your clothes," she teased.

He snorted, pulling on the suit to adjust it. "At least there were clothes to fit you. I can't seem to find a thing in our bags past what I had to wear on that ship." He swung his arm out, motioning to the main room beyond. Countless bags lined the walls, were stacked neatly in the middle of the room, and multicolored explosions of clothing leaked out of yet more opened baggage.

"I'll help find something that'll fit you better," she giggled. With a somewhat more sober expression, "Are we due anywhere tonight?"

Tari shook his head, rummaging in a nearby bag. "No, but Nahalla is. I had a servant deliver a message that Merchant Ghadand is ready to meet with her at her earliest convenience."

"And how long will that be?" Karra shrugged out of her gown, relived to have its weight off of her slim shoulders.

Tari grunted, his back to her as he discarded a deep blue robe with an equally deep purple lining. "I am not sure. But from what I have learned from these people, 'at your earliest convenience' roughly translates into 'now'." 

Karra pulled on her Jedi robes, the fabric smooth and familiar to her skin. She walked out of the small room, adjusting her belt.

Her master pulled on a deep brown robe. Apparently, among the piles of baggage, it was the closest he could come to his own clothes without cluttering the room from top to bottom. Karra hid a smile behind her hand as he lifted the hem off the robe off of the floor.

The door buzzed impatiently at the Jedi. Tari turned to look at it, reaching out to the figure beyond with the Force. "Who is it?" The being was not impatient like the Tr'vonian's he had met. She was pensive, an aura of worry coloring the Force.

"Nahalla, here to speak with Merchant Ghadand."

Tari nodded to Karra to open the door. Nahalla, a slim being with blue skin, pointed ears, and a graceful tail slid silently into the room. She was not surprised that Tari stood unceremoniously draped in a robe far too long for him. Her deep blue eyes drank in every detail. Karra stepped back; uncomfortable over even the few seconds Nahalla had looked at her.

With a nervous gesture, Nahalla pushed a strand of white hair behind an ear. 

"I understand that it is the custom of Merchant Ghadand to meet in the gardens?" 

Tari reassured Karra with a hand on her arm. "It is so. I will be ready soon."

Nahalla bowed, "I will be waiting for you outside."

"I wonder what that was about," Karra remarked, tossing Tari a belt for his oversized robe.

He sighed. "I think it means I have to wear the stilts again."

Tari was glad that his Padawan had decided to stay in their assigned quarters, resting and meditating. The Jedi, feet crammed uncomfortably in the stilts, stood at the edge of a still pool. The face, framed by a wig of tightly confined golden hair, was not his own. Makeup obscured his high cheekbones, and layer upon layer of fire-colored cloth draped over his lanky body. Without a thought, Tari assumed the ease of one who was used to such opulent clothing, but deep inside he was acutely uncomfortable.

Fortunately, due to his presumed status, he was left alone.

Nahalla drifted up to him, her tail hovering inches above the soft green-blue grass. Her white hair hung well past her waist. "Merchant Ghadand," she started, "is still on Tr'vos."

Tari looked at her, and intelligent blue eyes returned his gaze. "Custom is very important to these people. Any act out of the ordinary will be considered suspicious." She tucked an errant strand of hair behind one ear. "Fortunately for us, merchant Ghadand tends to visit this world for his vacations. I think he is due one."

She turned from the pool, Tari half a step behind. "He contacted me before you arrived. At first, the tricalla harvests were of no concern to him, but the production was recently tripled." 

He mulled over her words, "I had heard something about that. It has the Senate worried."

Nahalla nodded. "I don't blame them. Tricalla fruits are not easy to grow, the plantations are run on slave labor. This world is just outside of the Senate's influence." She shrugged. "The Tr'vonians don't even have a representative on the Council."

They stood on a small bluff, overlooking a sparkling lake. The setting sun gilded its surface. Impossibly green trees edged it. Nahalla motioned with her chin to the dense forest beyond the lake. "They grow the trees in the understory of that forest."

"I won't get much sleep tonight," Tari stated, his eyes scanning the forest. Nahalla was not aware of the Force. He reached out with it, closing his eyes briefly as he scanned the trees with all of his senses. The vibrant life of the forest rose to greet him, but a darker swirling pooled around the tree's trunks. He focused on it, the swirls amassing in tiny pockets, mottled green and red.

"I have a map."

Tari nodded, gray eyes narrowed against the setting sun. "Thank you. But I don't think I'll need it. I don't want to be carrying anything or have anything in my quarters that could attach you to me."

"I don't know who you are, but I know I can trust you." Nahalla looked up at him, her dark eyes reflecting the few stars brave enough to peer out from behind gilded clouds. "Merchant Ghadand is a good man, he would not let anyone wear his clothes and use his name."

She continued, her eyes lowered to gaze sadly at the forest. "I lost my family in that forest. Whatever you do, please, don't let anyone else's family die in there."

"I won't."

The sun set in its spectacular fashion. The sky was lit up like fire; golden clouds hanging fat and heavy on a horizon defined by mighty trees. A lone transport shuttle streaked across the sky.

Karra sat in her room, mostly walk-in closets, a large bed, and a substantial dressing table pushed next to a window. A soft evening breeze drifted into the room, scented with a far-off flower. It was faintly spicy. She wrinkled her nose. Something was wrong with the flower's scent. Too spicy, perhaps rancid?

Soft knocking on her door broke her from her thoughts. "Message for Servant Rantha."

She rose gracefully. To her relief, it was also customary that a servant that had a stud fee on her was not required to show her face. One slender hand reached out from the door. A messenger long used to such reclusive guests quietly deposited a datapad in Karra's hand.

_"Something momentous is meant to happen, Rantha. Soon, we will no longer be servants. Those we serve will serve us."_

Karra chewed softly on her lower lip. While the thought of freeing the servants was a good one, the servants had chosen their lives. At any time, any servant could request from their employer to leave.

_"You are unlike anything I have ever seen, Rantha. I wish for you to be by my side when I liberate this world from its oppressors! It will rise in a glorious new dawn!"_

The stars twinkled unknowingly down from the darkening sky. Karra gazed out of her window, worried. Whoever had sent this message was power hungry, ravenous for the power to rule. The message read on, scrolling slowly up the screen of the pad in flowery, flowing script.

_"When the sun rises, I wish to meet you next to the reflecting pool that your employer is so fond of. Ghadand and the others like him will grovel at our feet at the next sunset_

"This moon will be my base, spreading my rule deep into the stars! Join me, Rantha. Together we can rule!"

This person is insane, Karra thought. The message paused, then scrolled down to an embellished name, so overwrought with fine lines and curves that it was barely recognizable as letters.

Ferrid.

The forest floor was comforting under Tari's feet. He had doffed the heavy outer robes for the light dark blue robe that he now wore close to his body. His lightsaber rested at his hip, ready for action if it was needed. The trees arched high above, blocking all of the light from the stars and the sliver of the planet this moon orbited. His eyes were useless, but the Force guided him.

The slight swirls of imbalance were ahead, surrounded by the unwilling souls of slaves. The hanger and hate of their captors darkened the air. Tari dropped the light robe on the ground and continued, determined to learn more about the operations. All of his senses were alert, probing the emotions of the camp.

Oddly twisted trees grew stunted under the proud giants of the forest. Their leaves shined with a sick yellow in the dim light provided by the camp. Mottled green and red fruit hung from dropping limbs. He eased around a venerable trunk, his slight form melding perfectly with the bark.

The Force brought whispers to his ears. "…Shipment tomorrow. Large one, good batch of slaves…"

Two guards stopped near the tree, their backs to the Jedi in hiding. "What are we gonna do about that Tr'vonian guy?"

The other guard examined his weapon, shining the muzzle of his blaster rifle affectionately. "Nothin'. We wait for a signal from our new boss, remember?"

"I must have missed that meeting," the first guard hissed.

"It's not widely known." He chuckled. Soon, a dark wave of warning emanated from the guard. He turned to his companion, his voice a low growl. "I will expect you to follow our new employer."

Fear choked the first man's words. "I will!"

The guard nodded his satisfaction. "Good. Now, have you seen that new shipment of slaves?" he leered. "When I get paid I'm gonna buy me one of those pretty ones."

The other man seemed to be more at ease, an agreement reached between himself and the other guard. "Spare a few for me, will ya?"

Tari was very glad he had left his Padawan at their quarters. As much as he trusted Karra, she had yet to completely control her anger. She would have run out from the cover of the trees, lightsaber flailing.

The shadows concealed Tari as he slunk into the camp. With subtle nudges of the Force he redirected attention away from him. Guards leered at the thoughts of slave women, some beat lagging slaves. Tari resisted the urge to free them. But he couldn't be noticed, not now, not here. He had to know more.

A large building dominated the center of the camp. Several smaller buildings ringed it. Tari easily hid among the scattered structures and still-standing trees. But the tricalla fruit trees were a twisted reminder to his mission.

He pulled up next to the long, half-domed windowless structure. With his hands placed on the wall, he reached inside with the Force. With a startled gasp, he pulled away, pain flashing for a brief instant into his body.

Tari had found the slave barracks.

Hiding from shadow to shadow, he drifted unseen from the camp. His long blue robe was still where he had left it, and he pulled it over the dark undershirt and pants he had been wearing. The peace of the forest did little to soothe his mind.

The nights were short on this moon, and a few hours after it had set, the sun was rising again. Tari had barely walked into his quarters before the morning shift had started. Karra barreled out of her room, holding a datapad like it was a bomb.

She spoke in a rush, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ferrid is planing to overthrow everything. Turn all of us into slaves." She pushed the pad into Tari's hands.

A troubled undercurrent of excitement writhed under the surface of merchants and officials readying themselves for the new day. Concerned gray eyes looked to Karra. She had her lightsaber tight to her hip, her Jedi robes wrapped protectively around a growing body. Karra had her entire life to look forward to living.

Tari doffed the blue robe, dropping it to the floor. Soon, footsteps thumped heavily down the halls. A woman screamed in the distance and blaster fire echoed throughout the corridors. Karra pulled her lightsaber from her hip.

Their door burst open, several of the servants from the transport ship running in. The concussion of the blast stunned Karra, and she fell to the floor, her lightsaber hidden under her thigh. Tari was standing next to the door, but was unaffected. Her Master shrugged off the effects of the explosion and rushed the first servant. The man fell under a single punch from the larger Tari.

A Tr'vonian servant grabbed Tari by his ponytail. The Jedi Knight reached above his head and grabbed the servant by both shoulders. With a Force-assisted throw, the Tr'vonian flew across the room, landing in a motionless heap at the base of a wall.

Tari pulled Karra to her feet and handed her the fallen lightsaber. "Time to go."

She nodded, rubbing the back of her head.

The corridors were full of screaming people, all too close together and crowed for a lightsaber. With careful dodges, Tari and Karra fled their rooms.

Ferrid stood at the entrance, a large set of ornately carved double doors. He directed the assault with curt orders and sharp stares. His hungry eyes fell on Karra.

"Rantha!" he called out. "So glad to see you here at my side!" A swipe of his arms and they were surrounded.

Tari sensed the servants crowding closer around them. He knew there were too many for them to overpower. Karra started in shock as the cool handle of his lightsaber was pressed into her hand. "Play along and never let them know. He will let you in his circle. Staying with me will get you killed."

Karra nodded. "May the Force be with you."

She knew what she had to do, and was none too pleased by it. Tari was right, they had to split up. If he was captured and a lightsaber found on him, they would find out that he was a Jedi. And that led the risk of them assuming she was his Padawan. And not Rantha.

But, if she hid both lightsabers in the voluminous gowns so favored by the women of this world, and hid her moodiness and seclusion under the truthful guises of coming to age, she could hide both her Master's and her own true identities. Karra didn't like it one bit. But Tari was a resourceful Jedi; he did not need his lightsaber to have a weapon.

Tari darted past startled ex-servants, shoving through the crowd. Fear pushed at his mind, the fear of the merchants and those who had employed the servants in the past. And the sharp, painful fear of those who had abused who they had hired. 

Anything that came to the Jedi's hands was a weapon. A fallen chair, broken bits of some machine, someone's hair.

"Get him!" screamed a voice behind the fleeing Jedi. The Force guided his steps, but he had trouble avoiding the countless hands that reached out to entrap him. Most he pushed aside and shrugged off. Some he had to remove with more force.

His clothing was tattered, his pale skin raked with shallow scratches, but no one had been successful in getting a firm hold of the slender Jedi. The farther he ran from the main hall, the fewer people blocked his way and tried to grab him. A few servants lingered, looting at will. Those few shot random blaster bolts. The Force warned him of each blast, and the lithe Jedi was able to avoid them.

A large window was set at the end of the hall. Tari paused, and stared far down to the gardens. Nahalla's still form lay under a small tree, pale petals from its flowers dusting her body.

Shouting drew his attention. From behind him, the attackers were drawing closer. Tari hefted a nearby chair and shattered the large window.

The servants raced to the window, laughing. "Poor fool, so afraid of our new order that he had to go and kill himself."

Evil chuckles echoed the first servant's sentiment. "Good, saved us the effort of killing him."

They left, laughing and betting on how long it took him to die.

Tari drifted out of the shadows of a nearby doorway. He had to get out of the compound.

An unguarded open window on a lower floor, and Tari was free of the building, but not the compound. Blaster fire dug deep into the ground under his feet as he stretched his long legs as far as they would go. Tari zigzagged across the wide grassy swaths of the gardens, dodging half-aimed blaster bolts.

Dirt splattered his torn clothing. The Force propelled him milliseconds before bolts dug into the ground under his heels. Bodies of those unlucky souls that had not dodged well enough in their flight littered the grass. He had to run faster.

Oxygen filled his lungs, his heart pumping harder to deliver it to straining muscles. Calmly, he pushed his body farther and faster, and the bodies of the unlucky fell behind him.

Trees reached out to embrace him as he ran into the underbrush. The Force pushed him to the ground, a blaster bolt sizzling into a tree above him. He staggered to his feet, pushing deeper into the forest.

Karra watched Tari push off into the crowd of seething, scared people. Their fear clouded the air, the stink of it seeping into every breath. She placed a hand over her mouth.

Ferrid placed an amazingly gentle hand on her arm. "Don't worry, Rantha. Soon, you will never have to witness such atrocities." His voice was gentle and calm, full of sweet affection. But hate hid deep beneath the surface.

Blaster fire echoed from down the corridors. "We will catch him," he continued softly, his lips millimeters from her ear. "And we will make him pay for what he has done to you, forced you into mating with a man of his choice."

Karra kept silent. She had faith in Tari that he would outrun or outsmart his pursuers. His lightsaber hung like a comforting weight on her hip. In all the years she had known him, Tari had always returned for his trademark brilliant white weapon.

Ferrid's breath was warm on her neck. "Soon, all those like him will pay, bowing down in servitude to us."

And you will be just like him, she thought. To voice such sentiment would have gotten nothing but the hate from Ferrid. Now she needed his trust. It galled her.

Karra needed to keep an eye on her benefactor, to try and lessen his atrocities. To find out his plans and exploit them. The thought of betraying someone, even someone as twisted inside as Ferrid vexed her deeply.

"A new order for my people!" Ferrid exclaimed loudly. The crowd cheered, their jubilant screaming echoing off of the walls. He held Karra's hand tightly, raising it above their heads. "A few hours ago, this free woman had a husband bought for her! She has agreed now to be my wife to rule by my side!"

Karra looked at him in shock. She had agreed to no such thing! The crowd roared its pleasure to the stars. Anger welled from deep within. Ferrid sensed her slight shaking. "Don't worry, my love. All will be well."

"The excitement," she choked out past her tightening throat. She sensed this man's deep hate, and his overriding elation and rising heat. She feared that he would soon retire to his quarters, with an unwilling Karra in tow. But the will of the Force saved her.

A young man with a shock of pure white hair spoke in hushed whispers to Ferrid. He turned to Karra, "Sorry, Rantha my love, but duty calls me elsewhere. Feel free to move your baggage to our new quarters." He breathed in deeply, looking out over the milling crowd with pride. "The grandest set of suites you can find."

He swept his cloak behind him and stepped grandly from the hall.

Tari paused on the outskirts of the large slave camp, now being populated with the survivors of the uprising. Several had sloppily applied bandages.

He had removed his badly torn shirt, and stood shivering slightly in the twilight shade of the trees. Superficial scratches laced his lean torso. 

The prisoners were led in a jagged line past cheering ex-slaves into the large barracks building. 

Tari waited for night to fall, batting at the odd biting insect.

He crept unnoticed to the large structure. Sounds of crying from inside drifted to his ears. Tari reached out with the Force.

Three guards patrolled the far side of the building, ex-slaves wielding weapons that could easily destroy the guards that had mistreated them for so long. A sense of sick pride filtered the compound.

The ground around the single large entrance was disturbed, the dark earth turned by something other than the shuffling of imprisoned feet.

He stalked the unguarded flanks of the structure, searching for any weakness. The Force pushed gently, revealing every crack and corroded section of metal to his keen senses. In the back of the building, a heavily corroded metal plate presented itself.

A quick glance, and it was evident that he was quite alone in his discovery. Tari sunk into the Force, his thoughts dancing across the surface, pushing and prodding into every weakness. With a nudge, the panel fell away silently. He set it aside, easing his thin body into the jagged opening. He stood in a small room at the back of the main barracks. Crates lined the walls, the only clear floor leading past a row of crates and out a small door.

He reached with his mind, and the dark hate of a single guard presented itself. Tari reached deep in the Force, probing for a weakness. _You are tired. The slaves are cowed, they will not attack. They fear you._

The guard yawned. _They will let you get some sleep, a few minutes, nothing more._ A chin rested heavily on his chest. _Rest, rest. _Tari had to see the captives for himself, he had to see if they were all alright.

Tari's keen senses were awarded with the soft sound of snoring. He pushed the door open, being careful not to wake the guard. Countless pairs of exhausted, frightened eyes stared up at the shirtless, scratched Jedi. He must have looked like an animal, even down to the branches and leaves that littered his dark hair.

With a whispered command, he silenced any questions they might have had. Tari leaned in close to a man next to the slumbering guard. "I will try to help you as much as I can. But I need you to help me. How many of you are there?"

The man scanned the crowd of faces. "We have counted 57 Merchants and other officials, 24 loyal servants, and a few other workers. I have heard that the guards are kept somewhere else, so are the women," he whispered.

Tari nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Stay strong. How many captors are there?"

"I don't know," the man glanced down. "How are we to stay strong? We have had everything torn from us, our homes, even our families."

Tari squeezed his shoulder. "Look within, you will find your strength."

A younger man spit at the Jedi. His voice never rose above a whisper, but the anguish was strong in it. "You sound like those Jedi. Never around when you need them."

Tari shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But, for the time being, don't do anything stupid and get yourselves killed. Stay alive. And don't follow me, not yet. Wait for tomorrow night. I have a plan."

The older man nodded gravely. "We will try."

With a slight nod, Tari turned and vanished the way he had come.

The camp was larger than it looked; the buildings scattered among the tall trees. The twisted shadows of the tricalla trees filled the gaps between the mighty trunks. The only empty space in the forest were roads leading from one building to another, and clearings around each structure. Tari crossed all of these with great care, even covering his pale torso with dark mud to hide better in the shadows.

He avoided all patches of recently disturbed earth.

A smaller structure, its windows shuttered tight against the dark, pulled on him. Anguish filtered from within. He peeked through a crack in the shutters.

Women, blankets wrapped around shaking shoulders, filled the room. Their finery was torn, shredded from their bodies. Species of all types huddled against one another.

Their pain filled their minds.

Tari scowled. He had to try to free them. But not now. To free them immediately would be his undoing. And he had to free Karra.

Tari suddenly wished there were more of him.

A large, central room dominated the suite. High, arching windows gazed out over the immaculate gardens that Tari had fled through.

Graceful arches led to several rooms, mostly bedrooms. A larger room, dominated by a spectacular view of the gardens and surrounding forest, caught her attention. The window offered her a chance to see her Master coming before anyone else did. A bed, framed by dark wooden posts, held council over the center of the room. It seemed to be quietly debating the advantages of deep carvings with an ornately gilded archway that led to a huge bathing and dressing room.

Karra regarded Tari's lightsaber. No living being had trusted her like her Master did. With a silent gesture, he had placed faith in her, trust, and an unspoken symbol that he will return.

The previous occupant had to have been a small, slender woman. Karra pulled on her gowns, the purple fabric smooth against her skin. She had to change into something that would hide the lightsabers better than her Jedi robes, and something that would fit into her assumed character better. Karra doubted that Ferrid would be pleased to see his unwilling bride walking around the compound in comfortable, but drab, Jedi clothing.

She sat for hours on the opulent bed, the purple fabric fanned out behind her. Karra gazed out over the gardens until well after the sun had set. Tari still had not returned.

The door slammed shut. She sensed Ferrid's hidden hate, but it was overridden by his exhaustion. She drifted wraithlike into the main room, a look of careful concern on her face.

"You must be very tired," Karra crooned softly.

Ferrid nodded, "It has been a very long day." He pointed at her. "But, I keep my promises. Like I said, by sunset, this moon was mine." Ferrid rested his weary head on the back of the couch.

"You need rest, I will ready your bed for you."

Ferrid held a hand up. "You are not my servant, lovely Rantha." He pulled himself to his feet. "Sleep well."

Karra stared at his back in shock as he walked slowly to his room. He had not wanted her company that night. Perhaps he had wanted an exotic figurehead instead? Karra could only hope that was so.

The camp was very quiet just before the sun rose. Small animals scampered among what debris they could find.

Tari was curled up in a clump of bushes not far from the camp, a blanket stolen from the storeroom wrapped around his shoulders. Equally stolen clothes hung from his frame. He had dozed all night in a meditative sleep state that was a specialty of the Jedi. His body rested while his mind stayed alert.

The undercurrent of fear and hate prevented his mind from resting as it was.

The shout of a guard broke the still of the misty morning. Prisoners were led in long chains to the feeding area. A ladle full of foul-smelling stew was placed in a bowl that each person carried. The women Tari had seen the previous night were not present. He hoped that they would be fed as well.

Soon, each person was issued a basket and stern orders on how to pick which fruit. Some prisoners were taken aside and brutally trained in just how to care for the troublesome trees.

Tricalla fruit was allowed to rot on the branch, fermenting it and enhancing its hallucinogenic effects. The trees themselves were very picky, and very difficult to grow. Too much shade meant smaller, less potent fruits. Too much sun and the fruits rotted too quickly.

Punishment for picking a fruit that had not rotted to its fullest potential was death.

Tari padded barefoot through the bushes, surveying the camp.

The head guard, an ex-servant Tari had seen only once, ordered the camp. He controlled the chaos of last night. Tari sensed a great grim resolve, a seething hate of all things that used to control him. This was a brutal man that cared for nothing but his own revenge.

His lackeys were a trio of lesser servants. Mere messengers that had been at the right place at the right time and said all of the right things to get in the good favor of the head guard. They would be easy to frighten and control. Already, they nervously beat the prisoners. Tari guessed that they displayed their ill-gotten power to prove to the prisoners that they were not as cowardly as they really were.

A small anti-grav sled with a covered load drifted into the camp. An official looking man on a small speeder towed it. Without a word, he handed his sled over to the head guard and zoomed off into the trees. Tari eased closer.

But the man said nothing.

That evening, the prisoners came back, backs bent under the strain of a hard day's work. The former slaves taunted them. The slaves sneered at the weaker prisoners. A few days ago, one slave had done the work of four of the new prisoners. Some had even worked next to their new charges to speed up the harvest. If the shipment wasn't ready on time, they would receive no money for it.

Tari waited for true night, hiding out near the head guard's building. It was even easier to pry a corroding bit of metal from its outer wall than it was from the main barracks structure.

Another small room, this one a closet, greeted the Jedi as he pulled himself through the small opening. Clothes parted above his body as he pushed through them.

The bedroom beyond was dark. He heard the soft breathing of the head guard, dreaming of conquest and glory. Tari wrinkled his nose at the man's disreputable subconscious fantasies.

If he could capture the man, incapacitate him and free the prisoners, he would have a chance. Karra was most likely finding a way to free herself from Ferrid, or to find his weakness and exploit it. Tari crept forward, reaching out to the sleeping man with the Force.

The Jedi stepped over a small rug laid in the middle of the dark room. The Force warned him too late as the mantrap activated. Gravity suddenly increased, pulling him to the floor and holding him fast. A small alarm roused the head guard from his sleep.

Tari was held fast, but his mind was not. He reached out with the Force, seeking a control switch of some kind.

The head guard swung out of bed. The door slammed open and two more guards rushed in. Tari pushed with the Force and the heavy door swung shut on the guards. Tari found the control switch and crushed it.

As fast as it had increased, gravity returned to normal. Tari sprung to his feet, ready to defend himself. The head guard's eyes widened in surprise. The Jedi lunged for him, almost faster than thought.

They fell in a heap on the bed, Tari with his hands around the head guard's neck. "Tell them to release the prisoners," Tari tried to influence the man's thoughts, to frighten him, but his hate was too deep. The two guards rushed into the room; blasters ready in their hands.

"Move and he dies," Tari hissed from clenched teeth. Secretly, he was appalled by his own actions, but he had to free the prisoners.

"You don't want to kill me," the man crooned. "You won't kill me or you would have done it by now. You know that I can offer you great wealth."

"I want nothing our your wealth. I want those people set free."

"I rather like them right where they are." A sharp pain flared in Tari's side. One of the guards had kicked him. The other darted forward and wrapped his arms around Tari's head, pulling the Jedi back from the head guard. He gasped, pushing out with the Force.

But the guard pulled harder. Tari's feet lifted slightly off of the floor.

The other guard raised his fist, and the world turned to brilliant shades of red and black.

The day had dawned with Ferrid already gone to his duties and no sign of her Master. Karra gazed forlornly out the large window, wishing Tari was with her.

The silver gown she had worn at her first meeting with Ferrid lay draped over the back of an overstuffed chair like a waterfall caught in mid-descent. Karra was beginning to dread layering so much stuffy fabric over her body, but she had to keep up appearances. Ferrid must not know who and what she was.

A section of the wall slid slowly to the side. Karra started, her hand rested on the hilt of her lightsaber, still hidden in the folds of her deep red skirts. The Padawan had not yet donned the heavy layers of jewels that accompanied the gown.

Lhana's pale violet head peer out from the secret entrance. "Karra," she whispered. "I have something to show you."

Karra knelt down to see eye-to-eye with the slender Lhana. "How did you find me?"

The former serving girl that had conspired with Maraax to kill Tari in order to fee her own family smiled ruefully. "Your description is hard not to recognize."

Karra winced. "Well, it seems to be too late now to hide my identity from you."

"You don't have to," Lhana replied softly. "As much as I enjoy seeing my family free of slavery, I don't like how they did it. Once, I was willing to help kidnap your Master, but now," she looked away, her face clouded in shame. "Now this is worse. The entire population is in servitude to Ferrid, whether they know it or not." The violet being looked back to Karra, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Strength filled her, this woman would not cry, even when sadness, regret and hate pervaded her soul.

Karra nodded solemnly. "What is it that you want to show me?"

"Follow me." Lhana turned and disappeared down the secret passage. The young Jedi followed after her after doffing her gown in a swirl of red fabric.

She had to duck in the narrow, cramped passages. At odd angles, other dark halls shot out into other reaches of the building. Lhana carried a small glow rod, holding it slightly ahead of her. She scanned it over archaic script carved into the passages' walls at each intersection.

"It has been a while since I last traveled these tunnels," Lhana apologized softly, her eyes held close to one inscription. She nodded. "This is the place."

Lhana handed the glow rod to Karra. She knelt down, holding her ear to a recessed panel. Karra reached into the room beyond. Odd swirls of disturbed Force marked the distinctive tricalla fruits. It was not a large room, but the dark swirls were much more concentrated than anything she had encountered before. "It's some kind of concentration facility."

"It's more than that," Lhana did not seem surprised by Karra's evaluation of the room. "Is it empty?"

"Yes."

Lhana grunted softly as she pulled the panel off.

The room beyond was dark, the light from the glow rod reflecting off of various shiny metal surfaces and odd bits of glass. Multicolored lights blinked at random from their stations. Karra placed a hand on Lhana's shoulder to prevent her from venturing into the lab. 

_Security systems_, she mouthed. Lhana nodded her understanding.

Karra retracted deep back into the passage, Lhana closing the panel after her. They moved to a nearby intersection, stirring the dust of the long-unused tunnels. "What was that room for?" Karra whispered, sitting so she would not strain her back slouched over in the low-ceilinged passageway.

"A tricalla purification lab."

Karra narrowed her eyes. "Your parents were slaves at a tricalla orchard?"

Lhana nodded sadly. "I am afraid so. If your Master ran into the forest like the rumors said he did, he might be slaving next to them." She pulled her knees into her chest from where she sat across from Karra. "I don't want to think what would happen if they found out who and what he is."

The young Padawan chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip. "I must…do something to Ferrid to stop this." Lhana nodded. "But I don't want to kill him, as much as I seem to want to, as much as everyone else wants me to, it's not my way to kill him."

The violet being looked up at Karra, "But, killing him will solve everything!"

"No, it won't. Because then another lackey will take his place with the majority of the populace backing him."

Grim realization filled Lhana's eyes. "I see your problem."

Karra motioned to the passages they were in. "How many people know about these?"

Lhana shrugged, "Not many."

"Do you trust them?"

"Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?"

"Perhaps."

Lhana's white teeth flashed in the glow rod's dim light. "I think they are about to have production problems." She leaned forward, tracing random patterns in the dust. "If my…allies make life a little more difficult for these people than we might have a chance to turn the populace against Ferrid."

"But most of these are ex-slaves and servants. The slaves are used to difficult conditions, and the bickering of the servants who are most assuredly not used to it, will drive a wedge between the two factions that Ferrid controls."

"Exactly," Lahana grinned evilly.

Karra stood. "I must be returning to my quarters before I am missed."

"Good idea." Lhana rose from the floor, dusting herself off. "I will lead you back and update you every so often about how the effort is progressing."

Karra nodded her hopes rising.

Sun shone bright into Tari's throbbing head. He hung from his wrists from the lower branches of a tree, his feet dangling a meter off of the ground. The head guard paced around the captured Jedi. "Who are you? You are not mentioned anywhere in the computer."

Tari kept silent, flexing his fingers to restore some circulation.

The head guard had a long stick. He motioned to Tari with it. "You will tell me, slave."

The Jedi looked at him as if he didn't understand what the man had said, his face a carefully schooled mask of confusion and fear.

"Figran, has our newest slave cooperated?" Another guard, fingering a blaster, walked up to the head guard.

Figran replied to the newcomer, his eyes boring into Tari. "It seems he is being uncooperative."

Tari winced at the stick pummeled into his torso, but he refused to grunt, holding back any sound he could have made. Figran's anger rose, traveling down his arm and into the stick. To Tari's benefit, the stick was not as strong as the man thought it was. The Jedi concentrated on a slight weakness along its length, and it snapped after a few minutes of abuse.

Figran cursed loudly, throwing what was left of the stick onto the ground. He grunted in satisfaction at the deep red welts blooming over Tari's bare sides. "Let that be a lesson to every slave here!" he bellowed. "A few days rotting in the sun will change this one's attitude."

The former masters of the slaves were marched past Tari, each forced to look at the Jedi. Tari's strong gray eyes stared back into each pained soul. What they had been doing to the slaves was now being done to them. And it frightened them deeply.

Ferrid paced like a caged animal at the head of the table. His former Master, a once-proud Merchant sat clothed in nothing but rags on the floor in front of him. Eyes filled with disgust glared down at the shivering Tr'vonian.

"You controlled every aspect of my life," Ferrid accused. A slight snicker arose from the assembled ex-slaves that surrounded the table. "And yet you deem me not worth living, is that it?"

Before the beaten man could speak, Ferrid continued, his face close to the Tr'vonian. "Is that it? Am I somehow beneath you?" The man shook his head vehemently.

Ferrid barked his laughter. "Oh, is that so?" In half a heartbeat, Ferrid had slapped the man across the jaw, rocking him back. "You treated me like a possession, like a _thing_. I am not a _thing_ for you to control and order around. I am my own being and I will have the respect I am due."

At each word Ferrid hissed, the man shrunk back on himself. "I-I'm sorry—"

"You will be."

The man never had a chance as Ferrid focused a lifetime of rage. Adrenaline-powered hands constricted about his throat. Hate filled his eyes at the life in the Tr'vonian's face faded, gnarled hands clawing at Ferrid for a precious breath of air.

Bloodlust rose in Ferrid, his hands tightening further. Sick joy filled his being.

The Tr'vonian sobbed his last breath, slumping onto the floor as Ferrid released his vise-like grip.

He turned to his assembled cohorts. Some smiled in triumph, others were sick with hate. "Let that be a lesson to all who would treat me as less than what I am," Ferrid growled softly.

He turned from the room in a swirl of his cloak.

A Tr'vonian Merchant lay cooling, his neck snapped by the hate that ruled one he had called a Servant. Dead by the misguided principles of his people.

The same principles that ruled another generation.

Karra remained in her quarters for the duration of the day, her green eyes scanning the gardens for any sign of her Master. She meditated often, soothing her impatient soul. To run about the compound, her lightsaber in one hand and Tari's in the other rose to interrupt whatever calm thoughts she was able to muster. 

But she was not useless. Throughout the day, Lhana had reported in, for advice and to warn Karra of what not to eat. The newly organized rebels had made their first attack, but the evidence would not be seen for a few days. Karra smiled to herself. It was amazing how easy it was to sabotage a sewer system. It was an easy, but inconvenient, fix. And it proved that the rebels could work as a team.

Dinner was delivered to her quarters, steaming food heaped on an ornate tray. A small messenger boy, barely older than she was when Tari asked her to be his Padawan, staggered under the weight of it. He settled it carefully on the table, darting like the wind out of the room. Karra reached out to him, but lowered her hand in defeat.

Fear filled every cell in the child's body.

Ferrid stomped into the room, plopping himself at the table. With few manners, he dug into the food. Karra sat delicately across from him, daintily picking at the food that her stomach no longer wanted.

Ferrid waved his fork excitedly in the air. "Tomorrow, would you like to tour the camp with me? I hear the tricalla trees are quite beautiful this time of year."

"That would be nice," Karra replied sweetly.

Dinner progressed with little conversation, Karra sitting carefully erect, eating delicately. Ferrid finished his repast with a flourish, pushing himself away from the table.

He walked over to Karra, holding her hand gently in his own. A rush of emotions floated to her. True caring, tenderness, a deep hunger. Anger. Fear. Hate, overriding, overpowering, barely controlled hate.

He must have sensed her pulling slightly away from him, and he dropped her hand, mildly disappointed. "If you wish not to warm my bed tonight, that is your choice, my love."

Karra's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly covered the expression with a small cough. He continued. "Your body is your own, my love. Do with it as you will. Besides," he grinned, a genuine smile, full of tenderness, "There are others who wish to warm my bed." He lifted her hand again, his lips barely brushing her knuckles. "But you warm my heart."

He helped her to her feet, leading her to the door to her room, which he had never entered since she had chosen the suites for them to use. Ferrid bowed deeply to her, "I wish you a good night's sleep, beloved Rantha." He turned and walked across to his room.

Karra retreated to her room, arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Ferrid did evil, angry things. But he was not an evil man. He had patience.

Which made him all that more dangerous.

The night winds were cool on Tari's bare back. The guards had left him with the oversized pants he had borrowed. His sides and arms ached from hanging by his wrists all day. Every breath burned as his chest painfully expanded.

But the guards had not counted on the Force. He had accepted the pain of the broken and bruised ribs, the ache of his arms. A thought of himself being lighter eased his arms, the Force teasing its way through the knots. Soon, he fell to the ground as the rope gave way.

Tari lay still and panting, giving the blood a chance to return to his hands. He sat up slowly, his arms tingling painfully. The Force rose to his request, soothing the tingling and easing the pain of his ribs.

The guards were as easy to avoid that night as they were the previous night. A suggestion of sleep and the guard next to the main structure slumbered deeply.

With careful prodding, Tari uncovered a corner of the mantrap that lay in waiting in front of the main hanger door. He deactivated it by removing the trigger that snaked to the meter-square metal plate.

Tari discarded the slight trigger, walking forward silently around the building. The hole still gaped under the corroded panel. Tari removed it with a soft grunt and squeezed slowly into the storeroom. Boxes had been removed. If he was to free the prisoners, tonight would be that night.

No guards lorded over the inside of the structure. Tari had no trouble locating the man he had spoken to last night.

"I thought you would be dead," he whispered in surprise.

Tari smiled. "I have a plan. When you hear a signal, rush the door."

"But we will be killed!"

Tari shook his head, "I will provide a distraction. They will never know what is coming. But," he held up his hand, Jedi authority filling his voice. He rarely used that tone, but when he did, even the most stubborn soul listened. "When I say stop, do so."

The man nodded, and Tari turned and vanished out of the building.

The undercurrent of excitement soon filtered throughout the camp, even slumbering guards awoke to pace like caged animals in their buildings. Tari slunk from shadow to shadow, the pain of his ribs shuffled to a distant corner of his mind. Healing could wait.

The small building of the women' loomed near. Their fear and pain was a beacon in the dark night.

A quick, silent grab, and the guard that watched over the small building lay in an unconscious heap at the Jedi's feet. Tari had to act fast, he didn't know how long the other prisoners could keep their patience and run out to retake the camp. He had no intention of there being a camp left to retake.

Tari walked into the small, dimly lit building. A tall woman, her dark hair falling limply past her shoulders, stood to confront him. Her shoulders were squared, her back erect. Her very posture was of one ready to defend herself all of those under her charge. Battered women cowered behind her, several curled on themselves in pain.

"You are that man that was beat today," her eyes softened. 

He nodded, wincing as she unexpectedly placed a firm but gentle hand on his ribs. Her stern gaze held him steady. "You have broken ribs."

"I will heal."

"Don't try to impress me, Man. I'm a doctor, I know full well how long it will take you to heal."

Tari leaned closer to her, ignoring the stab of pain in his side. "I am a Jedi. I know how long it'll take me to heal, too." He looked over her shoulder at a woman curled in pain. "But something tells me that in order for you to run from this place, I need to assist someone besides myself in healing."

"You can do that? I've heard of Jedi healing themselves, but not someone else."

Quiet murmurs rippled through the room. She stood aside as Tari stepped over to the hurting woman.

The woman, her face badly bruised, started at Tari's touch. Frightened eyes stared up at him. "I will not hurt you," he whispered softly.

A sob formed in her throat and she pulled back from him, wincing in pain. Another woman, a Tr'vonian with a shock of dark red hair, held the shuddering woman against her stomach. Without moving forward, Tari held onto her foot gently, his fingers barely wrapped around her toes.

He reached with the Force, fighting the needs of his own battered body to heal the more seriously injured woman in front of him. The Force responded in gentle waves of warmth.

"Accept the pain, it is neutral, a signal that you are injured," he intoned quietly. Ravaged insides eased under his soothing touch. Trust flowed from the surrounding women as his patient sighed and relaxed.

Tari pulled his hand away, panting slightly. "I can do more, but later. Right now I need to tell you all something." He stood, the doctor at his elbow to steady him. "Leave this camp as fast as you can. Try to stay together. Hide somewhere, a valley, anywhere." He shook his head slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It doesn't need to be far away, just secure."

A small Tr'vonian woman spoke up, her light brown hair contrasting with her dark skin. "I know of a good place, not too far from here."

"Good, then you lead the way."

"When do we leave?" spoke up a soft voice from the back of the room.

"As soon as you can. I will go ahead to make sure the way is clear."

The doctor placed a light shirt on his hands. "Please, be careful."

Tari slowly pulled it over his head. He could sense the doctor examining his bruised sides intently. "I will. Follow me, and leave as soon as it is safe to do so."

The assembled women nodded, standing and pulling threadbare blankets and thin shirts over battered shoulders. The red-haired Tr'vonian helped the injured woman to her feet.

The guard still lay unmoving outside. Other guards nervously paced their routes, staring deep into every shadow. Most of the guards, especially Figran, viewed the women as weak, unable to escape.

No guards noticed the women dashing silently into the trees.

When all of the women were free of the building, Tari relived the guard of his blaster. He drifted into the structure and placed it at the base of a wall. A few thin pillows soon covered the softly whining weapon.

He drug the unconscious guard from the structure, pulling him behind a large tree that dominated the center of the camp.

The blaster signaled its irritation at its overloading by exploding in a brilliant flash of heat and flames.

Scores of dirty, abused men poured from the large structure, battling whatever guards came their way. The intoxicating tricalla trees burst into flame, spreading from tree to tree in a searing wave of fire.

Tari grimaced at the destruction but it was needed for the insanity of this slavery to stop. Usually, Jedi did not become involved in such activities. Even so, it would still be up to the Tr'vonian government to decide about the slavery issue if they wished to continue being a part of the Senate. How they kept the true extent of the tricalla operation a secret for so long was a mystery to the Jedi. A mystery he would have to concentrate on later as a guard rushed him.

The Jedi easily dodged his clumsy attack, the brightly burning tricalla trees lighting the camp in an eerie glow. Thick blue smoke soon filled the clearing.

What fighting there was stopped, the participants more interested in breathing air not polluted by the tricalla-laced smoke than fighting.

Tari staggered after the retreating guards, the air burning in his lungs. A cool, wet cloth was draped over his head. "I will lead you." The doctor's voice was soothing in his ears, the air cooler as the cloth filtered out most of the smoke.

She guided him out of the camp. The poison of the smoke wouldn't kill him, but Tari quickly became dizzy and disorientated. He was led with gentle patience to the women's hiding place.

He staggered into a cave carved out by a nearby stream. A constant breeze meant cool, fresh air for all to breathe. Several of the male prisoners huddled with the women, comforting each other. The doctor led Tari to a sandy spot near one of the cave walls.

A strange feverish sensation coursed through his body. Tari held the damp cloth in his hands, clenching it tightly as his body attempted to flush the tricalla smoke from his lungs. Painful coughs, some his own, echoed in the cave.

The doctor placed a small bowl filled with cool, clean water in Tari's hands. She helped him swallow, but even with her help, most of the water dripped past his lips and onto his borrowed shirt.

"The shaking will stop soon," she soothed. "But you will be coughing for a while yet."

Tari nodded. The smoke curled around his lungs in dark, distorted swirls. With his eyes closed, he focused deep within himself and purged as much as he could with the Force. The odd fever retreated, and his coughing and slight shaking stopped. The doctor nodded her approval. "I hope you have much strength in you, Jedi. More injured will be coming soon."

The night was spent healing whomever he was presented with, a ravaged woman, beaten slave, and an injured guard. Each time, the Force was more and more difficult to call forth, and when the sun's rays shined down through the smoke, Tari was straining, his brow covered by a thin sheen of sweat. He felt the doctor's concern on the rare breaks where he was brought some water, but she understood the necessity to heal the injured, friend and foe alike.

"The fire's out, but there's still a lot of smoke," called out a scout. He perched at the entrance of the cave, his forearm bandaged by the doctor. He was not injured badly enough to need the services of a Jedi. Much to an exhausted Tari's relief.

"The tricalla trees are gone."

Surprise, elation, and anger filled the crowded cave. Masters who had served a day as a slave shuffled uncomfortably as the main source of their income wafted away on the morning breeze. Slaves who had become masters first cheered the loss of the destructive and troublesome crop, but soon their happiness faded as they realized the lost profits from the destroyed parasitic trees.

A young man, coughing from inhaling the smoke, walked up to Tari. The fumes bothered him, but it was not too bad that he couldn't live with it for a while. The doctor had insisted that he go to Tari, but all the young man did was gently lower the unconscious Jedi to the floor of the cave.

The doctor darted to Tari's side, but pulled back, resting on her haunches. She shook her head, dark hair flopping into her eyes. "Let him sleep. I doubt we would be able to wake him anyway." The young man nodded, walking out of the cave and splashing stream water on his face.

He stifled a cough behind a hand. "I wonder when Ferrid is going to find out about this."

The doctor stood just behind him, her eyes gazing out into the forest.

Ferrid stormed from his room, his rage waking Karra from a troubled sleep. The sun had barely risen, its rays streaking trough a fine filter of pale blue smoke.

She stopped short of leaving her room, half in her doorway. Ferrid pointed a hand at her, his need to protect her overwhelming his anger for a brief second. "Stay here," he commanded softly.

Karra did not stay in her room. She watched as the guards streamed across the gardens. Lhana burst into her room, the panel clanking to the floor.

"I heard the tricalla orchard has burned to the ground!"

Karra turned to look at her in shock. Lhana nodded, elation filling every cell of her body. "Tricalla burns with blue smoke! Most of the guards are gone, if we are to liberate the compound, the time is now!"

Karra nodded, Tari's lightsaber a comforting weight of her hip. "Inform your…troops that we are to incapacitate the guards like we discussed."

Lhana nodded once, vanishing into the dark passageway.

Karra ran down the main halls, the layered gown doffed in preference to her Jedi robes. She had to prevent them from killing Ferrid. He had to stand trial in front of the Senate.

But Ferrid had bolted from the compound, the bay for his speeder yawning bare. Karra cursed softly. Blaster fire echoed down corridors, slaves, servants, and merchants all chose sides and fought for their lives.

A group of guards rushed the small hanger, blasters drawn. These were not former servants, and the man who had called her his wife had cost them much in term of pain and lost status. They raised their weapons and fired.

Tari's brilliant white lightsaber jumped into her hands and deflected the oncoming shots harmlessly into the walls of the hanger. The guards were startled, and held back, stunned by the lightsaber's sudden appearance. "A Jedi helped Ferrid!" One of them accused.

He lunged at Karra, but she neatly dodged, rapping the man on the back of his head with the blunt end of Tari's lightsaber. Her Master needed her, but first she needed to convince the guards that she was as unwitting a pawn as they were.

"I'm on your side!" A blaster bolt was neatly deflected.

"Surround her," a guard hissed.

"I didn't want Ferrid to chose me, but he did!" They did not listen to her pleading. Anger and a deep need for retribution was all that concerned the enraged guards.

The guards advanced. Karra lowered Tari's lightsaber in defeat. To resist would only increase their suspicion of her, to flee would confirm it. She deactivated the weapon, handing it end-first to the nearest guard. He snatched it quickly from her hand. They pulled her roughly after them, but she did not resist, but for one last look to the forest where her Master was, possibly injured. She let them lead her, her eyes closed as she reached deep into the Force, sending her thoughts with effort down the strong bond they shared.

The doctor knelt in front of an older man, his ankle badly sprained. At first, he had complained incessantly about the medical assistance the others were receiving, until he saw a young woman carried into the cave, her torso wrapped in a blood-soaked cloth. The older man watched in stunned silence as Tari strained to save her life. His heart felt the Jedi's anguish as he sat back, panting, the woman's lifeless body stretched out in front of him.

"She did not die in pain," were his soft words.

But now the Jedi, injured and exhausted as he was, lay on his back, breathing softly but shallowly near the cave entrance. The doctor finished wrapping his ankle and drug her tired body over to Tari.

His breathing was steady but labored, his broken ribs a burden to his body. She lifted his shirt, examining the sickly colorful bruising interspersed with thin scratches.

Tari furrowed his brow, stirring awake. "How do you feel?" the doctor asked when his gray eyes looked up at her.

"Karra needs me," he whispered softly.

"Who's Karra?"

"My Padawan." He winced as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. There were two Jedi on this moon. She didn't know much about Jedi, but she did know of the bond that existed between a Master and his Padawan. "Let me bind your ribs first. We need you to help all of us to return to the compound."

Tari nodded.

Orders were relayed quickly through the cave. The injured were placed on jury-rigged gurneys, crutches and canes were constructed for those with hurt legs and feet. The older man with the sprained ankle turned down a chance at a gurney, choosing a stout branch as a cane.

He had been a ranking official before the overthrow. But the sacrifice of the Jedi's strength, the need to help those who needed it most, humbled the once arrogant man. He helped the doctor pull the still weary Jedi to his feet after his ribs were tightly bound.

They followed the stream that meandered through the forest, spilling out into the gardens and the large pool. Tari stared at the distant building, straining with the Force. It took effort, but he was able to sense the chaos within. "Something has happened in there."

The older man stood next to him. The doctor had fallen back to assist those who were still quite weak. People drifted by the Jedi, spreading out over the gardens. "What happened?"

Karra's relief at his gentle mental touch brought a smile to his face. "I'm not sure." There was no fear in her mind, but an urgent need for him to return to the compound.

Ferrid's speeder screamed up to them, a blaster rifle mounted on the vehicle firing randomly into the returning slaves and guards. They scattered, screaming, into the forest. Ferrid swooped down at Tari, insanity filling his eyes. "I will kill you!" he screamed.

The older man pushed Tari down, then stumbled into the bushes, Ferrid's speeder flying half a meter from his head. Tari grunted, rolling over.

He lay on his stomach, a sharp rock digging into his abdomen. With little effort, Tari pulled the rock from under him, and flung it at the speeder, letting the Force guide his throw.

It lodged in the intake manifold, shattering under the pressure. Ferrid yelled as the speeder dived from under him, burring nose-first into the ground. For half a heartbeat, the forest was silent.

The wind rustled the leaves, rays of sunlight shone through the odd blue smoke. A woman gasped.

Angry men and women rushed the fallen speeder.

"No!" Tari yelled, staggering to his feet. "Don't kill him!"

"Why not?" accused a young Tr'vonian, his pale blue skin streaked with blood and sweat. "He's killed too many to live."

"He doesn't deserve to die." Tari's soft whisper was lost in the chaos.

The doctor stood next to him, her arms wrapped around her shoulders. "You're right, but that doesn't mean they aren't right as well."

The ravenous anger of the crowd seemed somehow out of place in the beauty of the gardens. The strain of the multiple healings, his own injuries, the lack of sleep rushed to overtake him in one fell swoop.

The doctor eased the unconscious Jedi onto the soft grass.

Lhana crouched low as her head passed under a structural support in the maze of tunnels that laced through the compound. Two other rebels, both Tr'vonian servants who had good Masters but saw the need to be truly free, slunk with her. They spun around a sharp corner, the shock wave of an explosion shooting down the tunnel behind them like the energy down the muzzle of a blaster. It ruffled their hair and singed exposed skin.

The sickly-sweet scent of burnt tricalla wafted down the tunnels in the backwash of constricting air. Lhana ducked her head around the corner, the tunnels collapsed just like she had rigged them to. She could imagine the smoking ruin of the purification labs just beyond.

Other rebels across the compound were wrecking their own havoc. The explosion was the signal for them to close blast doors at random, jump from hidden doors and relieve startled guards of their weapons, and disable the ships in the hanger. 

Power was shut off, darkening rooms and corridors, confused guards and slaves alike stumbled in the darkness. In a few hours, the fighting had stopped, the rebels coordinating the effort to segregate the battle factions in separate sections of the compound.

Ferrid had not returned from his journey to the forest.

Karra was freed, Tari's lightsaber cool in her hand. She stood at a window, gazing sadly out over the gardens. A wisp of smoke and movement caught her eyes. She had been too busy to scan the grounds for her Master, and he had not responded to her mental pleas. The others swore he was dead, but deep inside, Karra knew her Master was alive.

She sprinted past started rebels and into the small hanger. Without pausing to mount a speeder, she rushed off into the afternoon glare, the lingering smoke burning in her lungs.

The smoke was from a crashed speeder, Ferrid's battered body resting in front of it. A sob caught in her throat. For all of his hunger and hate, he had respect, a core of decency. Tari had taught her to see the good in people, and while Ferrid lacked much that was good about him, he was not a completely evil man.

She showed no surprise at the blaster that was pointed at her head. Karra raised her hands, speaking softly. "Where is Tari?" To call him her Master might have gotten her killed.

The man scowled. A bandage was wrapped around his forehead. "What is it to you, prisoner?"

"I have news from the revolt in the compound." She glanced sadly at Ferrid's still form. "It has been overthrown."

"By who?" He raised the blaster, sighting down its length.

"By rebels who wish the end the slavery and have peace." The answer seemed to please him and the man motioned for her to follow him.

She was led to an older man with a wrapped foot who leaned heavily on a cane. A doctor, circles of weariness under her eyes, scrutinized Karra from behind him.

"She had news," commented the man with the blaster.

The older man nodded, waiting for Karra to speak. She remembered him from the transport ship, an incredibly rude and impatient man.

Something had changed him deeply, his insolent eyes tired and worn. "Rebels who want nothing to do with servitude or slavery have taken control of the compound. Each faction is in a separate section of the compound, with the rebels working with them all."

He nodded. "Strangely good news." His eyes scanned the forest. "The tricalla orchards are gone." There was no regret in his voice after the loss of the profitable crop.

"And the purification lab should be destroyed by now," Karra continued.

"Good, I never did like what that stuff did to people."

The doctor was still watching her, but she had allowed some of her weariness to be noticed. "What is your name?" she asked softly.

"Karra."

The doctor nodded. "He's sleeping over there if you wish to visit with him. But, if you don't mind, I could use your help over here."

The need to help the doctor and her Master conflicted for a second. "After I see him, I will help you, but," she warned, "I'm not as good a healer as he is."

The doctor smiled, turning back to tending to a child's injured leg.

Tari was wrapped in cast-off blankets taken from the camp. Karra could see only his head, pillowed on a bundled shirt. But she had no trouble hearing his labored breathing or seeing his pale face. She brushed an errant strand of hair from his eyes. "I will be back," she promised.

But the stares of hate burned into her back as she turned. Karra lowered her head, shamed that she had sided with a murderous man such as Ferrid, but also shamed that he had to die.

The shades of gray that ruled the world of a Jedi were difficult to sort out. Ferrid had done evil things, but he was not a truly evil man. But even that grain of knowledge was not enough to redeem him in the eyes of the people he had wronged.

Tari woke in stages, a gradual reclaiming of consciousness. Someone had tended to his ribs, stabilized the broken bones and securely binding them in place. A gentle probe with the Force and he sensed Karra's signature touch, her inexperienced control in healing leaving traces in his body.

But, she was getting better.

He grunted softly as he pulled himself into a sitting position, looking around at the room he was in for the first time.

While still opulent, it was less garish in its décor. Large windows let in ample amounts of light, while pure white walls gave the room an oddly ethereal feeling. A large plant stood happily soaking in the sun in a corner, accenting the mostly pale room.

A glass of cool water sat on the nightstand, his lightsaber resting next to it. The sun shone through the glass, casting small rainbows over his weapon's brushed silver surface. Tari drunk deeply from the glass, the water soothing to his throat.

"I thought you would be awake." Karra's soft voice spoke from where she stood in the doorway.

Tari smiled, beckoning her in with the glass. "Anything new?"

She nodded sadly, sitting on a chair next to the bed. Her blue-tipped black hair contrasted sharply with the white walls. "Not all of the guards have reported in." Karra sighed heavily. "Most have, people just caught up in the frenzy, but…" she trailed off, her eyes sadly focusing on the floor. "The zealots that fueled this thing to start with are still out there. With Ferrid dead, a new leader has been chosen."

Tari raised one eyebrow. He could sense the warring emotions in his Padawan. Deep rage at the injustice the zealots had caused the people of this moon, and sorrow at Ferrid's death. "Who is the new leader?" he asked softly.

"Figran."

The older Jedi grunted, resting his head back on the pillows. "I don't see him as a leader for too long. He lacks Ferrid's patience."

Karra lifted her head a bit as the minor compliment to Ferrid was uttered. She quickly turned her head, ashamed.

Tari lifted himself up on one elbow, placing his other hand on her arm. "Karra, there is nothing wrong in how you feel for Ferrid. You had the privilege of seeing a side of him that nobody else has seen. But," he pointed out with a soft emphasis, "You didn't see all that he did. You can't judge a person by one facet of their personality. You only get a glimpse of their potential."

"He would have much potential," she whispered.

"But he chose a different path, Karra." Tari sat up, his thin frame cloaked in a soft white sleeping outfit.

He looked so frail at times, all skin and bones. But under the skin, deep in those storm-gray eyes lay an incredible strength. Karra looked up at him, her back a bit more erect. Tari continued, his voice soft and tender. "We all choose our own paths. Some are just a bit rockier than others—" he placed a hand on his still somewhat sore ribs—"But, it is still our choice whether or not we follow that path. Ferrid chose unwisely, I would think."

Karra mulled his words over in her head as Tari dressed. She spoke softly, "I see, Master. He knew the consequences of his actions when he overthrew the Merchants. Ferrid knew what he was getting into."

Tari nodded, pulling his dark robe over his shoulders. Sadness welled from deep in Karra's throat, her words barely above a whisper. "He wronged a great many people." She clasped her hands tightly in her lap as her Master paused to listen closer. Karra appreciated his attention, looking up at him with her vivid green eyes. "The rage of a people wronged killed him."

Karra stood, walking to the window. Tari ran a hand through his disheveled brown hair. "You are growing wiser, Karra."

She leaned against the window frame, slender arms wrapped tightly around her shoulder. "I think I see what you mean about how there is no black and white with the Force. It's all gray, and our strength lays in how we navigate it. It's so hard to keep the Dark Side and the Light apart."

Tari's hand was warm and reassuring on her shoulder. "That's why I am here, Karra. It is my duty to provide a guide to you, to train you in the wisdom of the Force."

He paused, gray eyes staring out over a sliver of the gardens. "But I sense we are not yet done here. There are still these guards you had mentioned hiding out."

Karra chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip, a small canine peeking out. "The only tricalla still on this world is what's left in the purification lab. But Figran doesn't know it was destroyed."

"Go on," Tari sensed his Padawan was thinking of something devious.

She turned to him, the sun backlighting her hair, touching the blue tint with its fire. "Figran will try to come back here and retrieve whatever tricalla he can."

"I think I see what you are getting at. He has suffered a great defeat and has few men; He will try to take us all by surprise, with what men he has left. When, do you think?"

Karra shrugged, "Soon, perhaps nightfall."

Figran cursed softly. The compound was just in view past the last row of trees, but more guards roamed the upper levels then ever before. His men, restless and injured, milled behind him, impatient.

The lust to revenge his lost crops was a bitter taste in his mouth. The last tricalla crop alone was worth a small fortune. Figran could recoup some of his losses with what was already processed and waited for shipment in the purification labs deep within the bowels of the compound. He ground his teeth, tendons standing out in his think neck.

Bandaged men with revenge in their bloodshot eyes crashed through the dense forest just outside the boundaries of the gardens. With one word, with one step, Figran would regain his empire from the weak "Masters" that had ruled his life since he was born. How he hated the rules that bound him to his role in life, the fact that merely being born condemned him to a life of slavery. A low growl issued from his throat. All his life he had watched those too lazy to work for themselves grow fat on his labor, on the sweat that rolled off his aching back. Each year more of his friends and family were beaten, sold, or died from the abuse. Figran and his men had lost so much.

Then Ferrid had organized them, he had shown them what a properly assembled revolt was capable of. Ferrid has even somehow convinced the house slaves, the "servants", that they no longer need to serve the weak and lazy. That is was time for the weak and lazy to serve them.

He hoisted a blaster rifle in one hand, the light of the moon glinting off of its pitted surface. Never mind than it was almost out of power. Figran didn't care. His blood sang for revenge, and fury filled his soul.

The deep cries of the former slaves rose from the dark forest. A ripple of humanity rushed from the trees, battered weapons held in beaten hands. Hate and anger filled what was left of their souls.

Tari pushed the raw emotions from his mind with effort. He had exerted so much of himself these past few days that he hardly had the strength left to do that. Even a night's rest had done him little good.

Karra looked at him, worried. She was not as strong in the Force as her Master was, but even she could taste the foul stench of hate on the winds.

Distant yells filtered through their shuttered windows.

Bright flashes of distant blaster fire lit up the night. Karra paced in the room. Usually, Tari would tell her to calm down, ease into the Force, relax. But he was concentrating on his own battles. A mind too intune with the Living Force, Yoda had said once. Too much rage, too much uncontrolled anger would overwhelm him.

Karra stopped her pacing. Once before, just once, Tari had shown proof of his anger and rocked the building with his barely controlled rage. It had taken great effort to quench the most un-Jedilike wave of indignation that coursed through his body. Strength he did not posses at the moment.

His brow furrowed as he sought that dark, peaceful place deep within his soul. With a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, he held onto it, balancing the raging emotions that tore at his psyche from the injured, desperate men outside.

Yells were cut off by blaster fire, yelps of pain echoing throughout the night.

Karra knew there was nothing she could do, that this even this had to run its course. It was proof to the aloof Tr'vonians that their world was not perfect. That the unquestionable laws had to be questioned. Sadly, she lowered her head. So many races, so many lessons that could be learned from the examples others had set, but yet the only lessons that were ever learned were those that cost the most in lives lost.

The rage abated, the blasters falling silent. Without looking, Karra knew that all of those men that had left the camp to regain what tricalla they believed was left in the compound were dead. She didn't need to look back at Tari to sense him rest his head in his hands. Yoda had once said the only emotion more powerful than hate was fear.

Both had ruled this dark night.

Tari stood on the dais at the base of the Tr'vonian council chambers. His trained voice boomed over the complaints of the assembled Tr'vonians. "You must come to terms with what happened here or it will happen again!"

"What will we do?" replied a blue-haired dignitary.

"Learn from your mistakes. Listen to the outlying worlds. You already know what to do, you just have to do it."

Karra stood to one side, hidden in a shadow. Her Master's calmness was a still pool in the swirling mix of emotions from the council. He had spent the entire return trip meditating and regaining his strength, and he was using every once of it now.

Tari held up a data pad. "I found this record of a slave revolt on this world half a century ago." He motioned to the council with the pad. "Why has this practice continued? You all know that slavery is forbidden on Senate worlds." His voice lowered ominously, "I will report this to the Senate, and their support will be pulled until this problem is taken care of, or permanently if you refuse to deal with your problems. I assure you, these people will never be ignored again."

Under the thundering protests of the council, Tari stepped gracefully down from the dais and out of the chambers, Karra a mere whisper in his shadow. 

Lhana bade them farewell, her violet arms held out in friendship. She clasped forearms with Karra. "Maybe now my family will be truly free."

Karra clasped her arms back, smiling. "May all of you be free."

Lhana laughed, a sweet, lilting note that filled the air with its music. "We will be, the Force be damned, we will all be free!"

Tari smiled from where he stood at the head of the ramp leading into the Senate shuttle. He let Karra say her parting words to Lhana. The two had been unseparatable in the few days after the failed revolt. But life on this world was changing. Servants looked to their Masters differently, heads were held higher as the invisible chains of slavery were lifted. Laughter rang through the air just as easily as fights that punctuated a need for freedom.

Lhana had her life ahead of her. A free life.


End file.
